


When White Bleeds Black, The Witch,  The FormlessVoid.

by sheppsboy



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Horror, Multi, Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon, sheppsboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:23:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheppsboy/pseuds/sheppsboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greetings Boils and Ghouls. It's your old pal The Mad Hatter. Tonight is the night when ancient forces roam the earth; when the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead is at it's thinest. The spirits roam as night bears her dark mysteries. Join me on a journey of the macabre; where children are not so innocent, the mind is a place of untold horrors, and some things are best left untouched. Cross the divide if you dare and travel with me to Sunnydale, on this Hallowed Eve night.</p><p> </p><p>(1)Tarot: Three of Swords            (2) Prompt: The Boogy Man             (3) Tarot: The Shadow Side</p><p>When White Bleeds Black       The Witch                          The Formless Void</p>
            </blockquote>





	When White Bleeds Black, The Witch,  The FormlessVoid.

Title: When White bleeds black

Author: Sheppsboy

Rating: NC-17

Summary: what does it take to change hats?

Characters/Pairings: none maybe Xander Anya.

Word Count: 449

Warnings: angst,Murder,gore,bloodplay,past child abuse

Disclaimer: I wouldn't want to own this boy in his current incarnation,even if you gave him to me.

Notes: Written for the 2013spook_me challenge.

Tarot:Three of Swords

 

 

He sat in the dark basement feeling accomplished. For years the old bastard had taunted him; coming home in a drunken stupor; beating and raping him over and over. It happened like a twisted merry-go- round.

 

He knelt down looking at the corpses, feeling the warm stickiness of the blood as it coated his naked flesh. The taste of it on his lips; rich and heady. He bought the three blades from a consignment shop with his last paycheck. He had their names inscribed upon each one of them and waited. The first was his father. Xander lay in bed feeling the weight of the knife in his hand—waiting for his nightly visitor. When Tony finally made an appearance, he was ready.

 

He only wished it would have lasted longer—the cries of pain as he mutilated his father's penis were exquisite. The power was a rush for one who, had for so many years, been powerless. His mother was number two. Xander pulled off all his clothes and creped up the stairs. He tiptoed down the hall until he came to the last door on the left. Jessica was passed out on the floor—as usual—before he carved his name in her breasts, he slit her throat, leaned down and whispered in her ear “I love you mommy.”

 

The third blade was reserved for the one person who begged the most to have her throat slit. She had used him just as much as his father—if not more—constantly forcing him to have sex; demanding to fuck her longer; harder until he had nothing left. With Anya, he would take his time, gently fucking her with the blade. He wanted her to see how it felt to be ripped apart from the inside. So he sat in the dark basement watching and waiting. It was only a matter of time before she made an appearance. And then her cries would be so sweet—filled with all the pain he had ever felt.

 

Xander turned on a little mood music. The woman's mournful voice filling the room, “Sweet dreams of you, Every night I go through, Why can't I forget you and start my life anew? Instead of having sweet dreams about you.”... Yes, tonight was his night. He reached between his legs; coating his hard cock with the blood of his slain father; stroking himself. The thrill of the kill had made him aroused. As he came there was a knock on the door, “Xander it's me, Anya.” Xander smiled raising his hand to his mouth; gently lapping at the blood mingled cum. He yelled back, “coming Anya.” As he went to the door with the blade behind his back, Xander thought how good it would feel to finally give Anya what she had been begging for....

 

“You will always be a monster - there is no turning back from it. But what kind of monster you become is entirely up to you.” Well kiddies it looks like Alexander has found his niche at last. You gotta love a young man whose not afraid to carve out a place for himself in the world...  
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Title: The Witch

Author: Sheppsboy

Rating: NC-17

Summary: what does it take to change hats.

Characters/Pairings: None.

Word Count: 515

Notes: Written for the 2013spook_me challenge.

Prompt: The Boogy Man

 

The boy lay in his bed staring at the witch. It had been weeks since the man with the gold eyes and the woman in the pretty dress came to live with him.

The witch was always mean she often slapped the boy and locked him the closet. When the man with the yellow eyes and the woman came, it was her turn to be stuffed in the closet. Sometimes the little boy would drag the witch out, and sit her in a chair, so he could play with her. She had started to smell funny after a few days. So, the nice woman with the Dollie gave him some rose water to spray the hag with. Some days the little boy would go outside and bring in a stick. He would poke the witch, watching mesmerized as her flesh would ooze a greenish yellow film.

At night the boy could hear the Bogey Man in the basement screaming or crying. The only time he would do this was when the nice man with the gold eyes was playing with him. The little boy found himself wondering what kind of games the Bogey Man and the gold eyed man played.

The woman would bring clothes to him some nights and help him change the witch. They would pose her in different positions; like a doll. This made the woman with the beautiful brown hair happy and she would clap her hands in glee spinning wildly around the boys room, as she lifted him in her arms and planting cold dry kisses on his little face.

The witch never did that, but, the Bogey Man had. They were ruff kisses filled with teeth and bites that drew blood. The Boogie man would touch the boy too; but not like the woman or golden eyes. He would wait in the little boy's closet. When the child would enter the room, he would spring out and grab the little boy, then, the Bogey Man would hurt him down there; causing him to bleed. After the bogey man played his mean game, the mean old witch would slap him because he stained his undies.

One night, the little boy had a nightmare. It was far too quiet. It had been weeks since he heard the Bogey Man's screams from the basement, and golden eyes had taken the witch away. The little boy was alone in the dark and he was frightened.

Drusilla heard her kitten's screams and went to the child's room to see what was the matter. The small child sat in his bed shaking. Drusilla took him in her arms and sang him to sleep. After she was satisfied the child was safe she spoke into the darkness.

“ Don't you worry none my dark prince, me and my Spikey have taken care of the witch and the Boogie Man. They'll not be bothering you again. The stars whisper sweet things to me. You will be such a wonderful addition to our little family. Your claws will be sharp and you will reign blood from on high.”

 

"Sometimes the dark can be a comfort, especially if whats seen in the blaring rays of day is far more ugly and disfiguring than any night creeper. I wish young Alexander all the best with his new Mommy and Daddy. At least the boy will be loved, oh and Drusilla has informed me that she has been making wondrous plans..."  
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Title: The Formless Void

Author: Sheppsboy

Rating: NC-17

Characters/Pairings: none

Word Count: 487

Notes: Written for the 2013spook_me challenge.

Tarot: The Shadow Side

 

Night falls as she inevitably does; casting her veil far and wide; like a fisherman's net. As she covers the world in her dark beauty. With the absence of light far more malevolent creatures roam; free from the cursed rays of the sun.

A young woman is praying to such an entity now. Little does she know that this spirit has been waiting for such a night as this to rend the veil and manifest on this mortal coil.

 

The circle is cast, and each intricate rune carved into her flesh by her lover. She closes her eyes and begins to chant. The wind howls outside the small dormitory with a deep and foreboding moan.

You are with her, aiding her in her Magickal works. She passes you the athame asking for you to give yourself over to the Crone and you agree. Suddenly the chanting stops and Willow opens her eyes. They are not the usual black, which denotes power. No, they are crimson. Her voice is not her own as she speaks in a language far more ancient than the town for which you reside.

She speaks to you, asking if you will pay the price? As she does each candle begins to grow dim casting your dorm room in twilight.

From the corner of your left eye you notice something moving; skittering across the floor. The sound it makes is wet and languid. You can imagine that it is leaving a trail of viscous fluid with every movement. You feel something cold and clammy brush your cheek. Willow, who is no longer Willow, stares at you with her unblinking crimson eyes. There is nothing left of the once perky red head.

Her once sweet face, now a mockery as it speaks, “will you pay the price?” She asks again as a wicked grin slowly forms on her pouty cupid's bow. You don't answer for fear of what you are being asked. The candles are still lit, but they are growing dimer and dimer until you are enveloped in complete darkness.

The wet dragging noises have multiplied. They are coming from all directions now. You feel your heart racing, as you are asked once again, “will you pay the price?” You feel something breathing down your neck--its that thing. The thing's breath is scorching hot. The stench is so repulsive that you can feel your gorge rising. The "not willow being" is waiting for your answer.

You find yourself answering, “yes”; anything to make this nightmare end. Your heart feels like it's crawling up from your chest, and into your throat.

Behind you, as you are sitting in front of your computer, you notice the light is flickering ever so slightly. You see something in the reflection of your screen. There is something moving you can see it out of the corner of your eye, and just when you are about to turn arou......

“Many have stood their ground and faced the darkness when it comes for them. Fewer come for the darkness and force it to face them.” I hope you have enjoyed your visit with The Hatter... All of you who are still left that is...Feliz día de los Muertos, and happy Halloween.


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